A Thimbleful of Hope

by Evie Grace

  ‘There’s gratitude for you,’ Eleanor said. ‘Poor Dickens.’

  ‘We must be more careful.’ Violet watched the cat settle down and start washing his paws. ‘What if that had been Joe who’d found the needle?’

  ‘It doesn’t bear thinking about,’ May contributed.

  Violet picked Joe up and let him nap, tucked inside her cloak for warmth, as dusk began to fall. Eleanor lit a candle.

  ‘Can we light the fire now?’ she asked. ‘It’s getting cold in here.’

  ‘No, if you’re feeling the chill, you must go to bed instead,’ Violet said. ‘The choice is stark – food or fuel.’

  ‘Is it really that bad?’

  ‘I’m afraid so.’

  ‘I hate being poor. It’s like being a parrot stuck in a cage – there’s no escape.’ Eleanor rested her head in her hands. ‘Is this how it’s going to be for the rest of our lives?’

  ‘Not if I have anything to do with it. We must continue to be brave.’ Violet wasn’t sure if she believed her own words any more. How could she go on giving encouragement to the others when she saw her son growing less strongly because her milk was too thin, and her sister had had to take in the seams of her dress, and she had cankers in her mouth from lack of nourishment?

  ‘Something will turn up,’ May said.

  Violet heard footsteps outside. ‘Quick, snuff out the candle and hide.’

  ‘I know you’re in there,’ came the landlord’s voice. ‘I want my money and I shall get it.’

  ‘It’s Black Monday,’ May whispered. ‘He’s a right squeeze-crab of a man: sour-looking, short and shrivelled.’

  ‘I’ll bring you the rent tomorrow,’ Violet shouted. ‘I promise.’

  ‘You’d better, or I’ll ’ave you out on your ear. All of you!’

  ‘How on earth are you going to do that?’ Eleanor said as the landlord stomped away.

  ‘I’ll pawn Arvin’s ring. It’s the only thing I have left. It has no sentimental value, but I find it helps when I’m out looking for work. People look on me more favourably if they think I’m a married woman, not that it’s been of any benefit recently.’

  ‘We’ll find you a curtain ring,’ May said. ‘That will do.’

  ‘It will have to.’ For the first time, Violet felt completely without hope. After her visit to see ‘uncle’ the next day, she would be reduced to begging on the streets.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Make Do and Mend

  ‘That’s all you’ll give me for it? You offered me more before,’ Violet said, staring at Mr Cove who was making a great play of examining the ring through his magnifying glass. She knew he was toying with her. He could read her desperation as she stood there with Joe cuddled against her breast, the cuffs on her black dress frayed to bits and her shawl too thin to fend off the winter cold.

  ‘I’ll give you what it’s worth,’ he said, ‘but if you think you can do better elsewhere, you know what you can do.’

  ‘No, Mr Cove. I’ll take it, thank you,’ she said quickly. It would be enough to cover the rent, a pot of stew and maybe a small bag of coal.

  ‘Very good.’ He wrote out the ticket and gave it to her, along with the money. ‘Take some advice from me, my dear. Give the child up. I know of someone – of good repute – who’s happy to take a boy from a mother who finds herself in dire need. She’ll pay a few bob.’

  ‘I beg your pardon,’ Violet said, shocked.

  ‘Think about it. Let me know if you’re interested.’

  ‘I am not, and never will be. How dare you make such a wicked suggestion! I wouldn’t be that cruel.’

  He smiled. ‘Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind. I wouldn’t dismiss the idea out of hand.’

  ‘Come on, Joe.’ She turned on her heels and walked out, pushing past the queue of Mr Cove’s shabby and unwashed customers, her eyes blurred with tears. She would never come back to redeem the ring, or any other of the Rayfields’ valuables. He could keep them.

  She put Joe back in the pram which she’d left outside the pawnbroker’s and headed along the street, not caring where she was going.

  Somehow, she found herself walking along the quay towards the Packet Yard. As she passed the warehouses, she recalled the disastrous wine-tasting, and her embarrassment and sorrow at seeing her father’s humiliation. Perhaps she shouldn’t have come back to Dover at all. It held too many sad memories.

  Joe didn’t share her mood – he was lying propped up against a pillow, gazing at the people on the street, beaming from ear to ear from beneath his felt bonnet.

  As she pushed the pram along, it gradually grew harder to move and then it stopped with its wheel caught on a stone, or so she guessed. She gave it a good shove and the front collapsed, and Joe and the blankets began to slide over the edge of the wicker basket. With lightning speed, she caught hold of her son, snatching him up before he fell.

  ‘My darling boy, you could have been hurt,’ she whispered, kissing the top of his head as a pair of elderly sailors stopped to stare, adding to her distress.

  ‘I wasn’t expecting that,’ one said. ‘Well, I never.’

  ‘That ironwork’s rusted through.’

  ‘You were lucky the littl’un didn’t fall out and crack ’is skull open.’

  Reassured that Joe had come to no harm, she turned her attention to the pram. The axle holding the front wheels had rusted through and broken in half. It was too much, she thought, bursting into tears. She needed the pram to take Joe out and about, but she couldn’t afford to have it repaired. She’d been so strong, so determined to flourish, let alone survive, and it had all gone wrong. Now this one little thing, the loss of a wheel, was the end of the world.

  On seeing his mother’s tears, Joe began to cry as well, making her feel even worse.

  ‘What’s going on here?’ A kindly looking gentleman in a bowler hat pushed through the small crowd which had surrounded her. ‘Can I help you, missus?’

  ‘No,’ she cried. There was nothing anyone could do.

  ‘Let me take the pram along to a smith to see what can be done with it.’

  ‘It’s a kind offer, but I can’t afford to pay for it.’

  ‘There must be someone – family or a friend you can borrer the money from,’ he said.

  She was reminded of her father. The phrase ‘neither a borrower nor a lender be’ came into her head. Once you borrowed, all was lost. You never got to pay it back.

  ‘Violet? What a coincidence.’ If her heart could have sunk any further, it would. Why did William always have to turn up like a bad penny? She felt underdressed – the hem of her dress was ragged and her shoes second-hand. Her coat was dirty, while William looked every inch the gentleman in his dark wool greatcoat, with a starched collar on his shirt, and shiny black shoes.

  She hugged Joe tight, wrapping her shawl around his shoulders to keep him warm, as William walked up to stand beside her. ‘I was coming to see you.’

  ‘How would you have found me?’ she said, unsure if she believed him.

  ‘You told me you had a workshop in Oxenden Street – I would have knocked on doors until I came across the right address. But it doesn’t matter now. Oh, I hate to see you in distress. It is only a wheel. As the gentleman here says, it can be fixed.’

  ‘No,’ she sobbed. ‘It’s the least of my troubles.’

  ‘Here’s my handkerchief. It is clean.’ He handed it over, and she wiped her nose.

  ‘Thank you. No, Joe,’ she said, as he tried to grab at it, but he began to protest, and she gave in for the sake of peace and quiet.

  ‘Let me walk you to the Mitre Hotel – I’ll buy you tea, then have this fixed by one of the smiths at the Packet Yard while you wait.’

  ‘I don’t think it can be repaired.’

  ‘I’ll ask them to make up a new axle. They’re used to working on the moving parts on a steamship.’ William smiled briefly. ‘I don’t think they’ll have any problem with a pram.’

  ‘It w
ill be expensive?’

  ‘They won’t charge – they owe me a favour.’

  ‘Then I’d be very grateful,’ she decided.

  Within a quarter of an hour, she was in the ladies’ lounge at the hotel, with Joe on her lap. William took a seat opposite and leaned towards her as they waited for the waiter to deliver her order of tea and toast, and a biscuit for Joe.

  ‘Violet, I have an inkling as to why you’re so upset,’ William began in a low voice. ‘This is about Mr Brooke – I was coming to tell you, but you’ve already heard the news?’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘A fisherman has found a body washed up in one of the coves.’

  ‘They think it’s him? Arvin?’ she said after a pause.

  William nodded. ‘They say that his body will be returned to France at the Frenchwoman’s expense. I’m very sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be. I want to make it clear that this information leaves me quite cold. I grieved for Mr Brooke – the man I thought he was – a long time ago. I realise there were some who surmised that he might have survived the night of the Samphire incident to tell the tale, that he staged this miraculous disappearance, so he could return with the Rayfields’ gold and live a life of luxury, but you and I both know that he drowned.

  ‘It was kind of you to let me know. I don’t regret marrying him – if I hadn’t gone through with it, I wouldn’t have my son.’

  ‘He looks like a fine boy,’ William said.

  ‘I wish I hadn’t brought him out now – I thought the sea air would do him good.’

  ‘Ah, here’s your tea. I’ll leave you to enjoy it while I take the pram to the yard. I don’t know how long it will take.’

  ‘Should I come and pick it up?’

  ‘Wait for me to return. You don’t want to be hanging about on the quay – it’s too cold and there are some unsavoury characters lurking about.’ He left her to sip at her tea and eat toast and strawberry jam.

  There was a newspaper on the tray the waiter had brought to her. She perused the headlines.

  Constable Disciplined for Falling into the Dour Drunk Man Fined for Leaving His Horse and Cart Unattended Recovery of the Body of the Bigamous Mr Brooke. The Mystery of his Disappearance Solved.

  Arvin had been found as naked as the day he was born, apart from a ring from which he was identified by the information left at the police station by his wife, Madame Brooke.

  She became aware that the waiter was looking over her shoulder.

  ‘May I pour you more tea, madam?’

  For a moment, she wondered if he’d recognised her, but he continued, ‘He got his just deserts, that one, if you ask me. Serves him right. He ruined some poor girl – it caused a terrible scandal. I’m sorry, did you wish me to …?’

  ‘Yes, please.’ She watched him place the tea strainer on top of the china cup and pour from the pot. She let him add the milk for her, enjoying being treated for once.

  A little while later, the waiter returned.

  ‘Mr Noble says to let you know he’s waiting outside,’ he said with a smile.

  ‘Thank you. My bill, please.’

  ‘Oh no. It’s been paid.’

  ‘I must leave you a tip then.’ She began to fumble in her purse, and the waiter, an honest man, told her not to worry because Mr Noble had already given him something for his trouble. Picking Joe up, she carried him outside to find William standing on the pavement with the pram.

  ‘All done.’ He smiled, pushing it back and forth. ‘Look at that.’

  ‘It’s as good as new,’ she exclaimed.

  ‘You seem surprised.’

  ‘I am, a little.’

  ‘You shouldn’t be,’ he said softly. ‘Anything can be fixed as long as you pour your heart and soul into it.’

  Was he saying that their situation could be resolved if they both wanted it enough? Her knees trembled as she gazed into the blue depths of his eyes. It was the sweetest of sentiments, but just that. They could never be together – her fall from grace would hold him back.

  William went on, ‘I don’t want payment. As I said, the smiths owed me a favour.’ He took a card from the inside pocket of his coat and handed it over to her. Joe reached out for it, making William chuckle. At the sound of the deep rumble in his throat, Joe started and stared, then broke into a slow smile.

  ‘Hello.’ William grinned back, then turned to Violet. ‘If the new axle fails or you need anything else, then you know where I am.’

  She read the address.

  ‘I’m going up in the world,’ he said.

  ‘I’m pleased for you. You deserve it.’ She put Joe back in the pram and covered him with the blanket.

  ‘How’s the embroidery business?’ William asked.

  ‘It’s … Oh, I could pretend and tell you how well we’re doing, but really … we’re struggling against fierce competition from other workshops. The demand’s there, but the prices keep falling. I’m sorry – I have to get back.’

  ‘Before you go, here’s a gift for the boy.’ He slipped a coin into the foot of the pram. ‘Spend it as you see fit, Violet.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said simply, before hurrying away.

  May and Eleanor had been waiting for her to return to the workshop.

  ‘Where have you been?’ Eleanor asked, letting her in. ‘Our landlord has had us under siege, wanting his rent.’

  ‘Where is he now?’ Violet pushed the pram up against the window, leaving Joe to sleep.

  ‘In there.’ Eleanor nodded towards the kitchen door. ‘He insisted on coming in and making himself comfortable. He said he’d wait until one o’clock and then we’d have to leave. He’d pack our bags for us, if he had to.’

  ‘You ’ave got the money?’ May said.

  ‘Yes, I have.’ She opened her purse and counted out the necessary sum. ‘Please give this to him.’

  May took the money through to the kitchen while Violet sat down.

  ‘We were about to send out a search party,’ Eleanor said.

  ‘It’s a long story.’ Violet untied the ribbons on her bonnet and put it on the table. ‘I went to see “uncle”, and then as I was walking along, the pram broke. Mr Noble had one of the smiths at the Packet Yard make a new axle for it.’

  ‘How come he was there? He always seems to be there when you’re in trouble.’

  ‘He’s like a guardian angel,’ Violet said wistfully. ‘He gave Joe a gift as well. Look in the foot of the pram – but don’t wake him up!’

  ‘That’s very generous of him.’ Eleanor came back with a silver crown and dropped it into Violet’s outstretched palm. ‘Dear William – he goes beyond the call of duty.’

  ‘He said he was on his way to call on us to give me some news.’ As she put the coin in her pocket, she found his handkerchief – she had forgotten to give it back. ‘Arvin …’ Her voice faltered. ‘He’s been found.’

  ‘Alive?’ Eleanor said.

  Violet shook her head when her sister continued, ‘You know, I always had an idea that he’d turn up still living, dressed in one of his hideous frock coats. I can’t believe he’s dead. Oh, Violet—’

  ‘I don’t care about Mr Brooke. I’m glad that there’s a proper end to it, but that’s all. I’ll be able to tell Joe the truth when he’s older: that his father died before he was born. I won’t need to keep looking over my shoulder, wondering if he might return to rake up trouble between me and my son. It’s possible that he would have found a way to take him away from me.’

  ‘Do you think that’s what he would have done?’

  ‘Who knows? At least I have confirmation of his fate. My mind is at ease on that score.’

  ‘Are you going to see William again? I mean, is he sweet on you?’

  ‘Eleanor! What would he see in me? Look at how our circumstances have changed. I have one half-decent black dress, cheaply made and it shows, and my stockings have all been darned to the nth degree. My hands are rough with needle scratches and I have dark circles a
round my eyes.’

  ‘I’ve told you this before – appearances don’t matter,’ her sister said sternly.

  ‘I would argue that it does. Society judges us on how we look. Are we wearing the right clothes, the latest fashions and fabrics? Do we live in a house that suits our status? Are our reputations beyond reproach? You see, that’s where we’re at a disadvantage, thanks to Mr Brooke. He was found without his clothes, and I’m glad that he was seen naked and lacking in dignity. It’s what he deserved.’ Violet raised her hand to silence Eleanor as she opened her mouth to speak. ‘I’m not bitter – I let go of my feelings of anger a long time ago. We have more important things to do than waste another moment talking about that man.’ She stood up again. ‘Let’s go and restock the larder for a start.’

  The larder, unlike the walk-in cupboard at Camden Crescent, was a small cabinet in the kitchen to keep the flies and vermin off their food, not that they had many mice or rats because Dickens had become adept at getting rid of them.

  Having bought food for the next day or two, Eleanor set about preparing dinner, boiling up tripe then simmering it with milk and onions, while May worked on an antimacassar set and arm caps, embroidering them with sprays of pink flowers. Violet washed William’s handkerchief with hot water and lye soap, rinsed it and hung it over the firescreen in the workshop.

  ‘That don’t belong to you. I’ve never seen it before,’ May said.

  ‘It’s William’s.’ Violet was trying not to blush, but the more she thought about it, the hotter her face became. ‘I’d like to return it – out of politeness, that’s all.’

  ‘You could put his initials in one corner,’ May suggested.

  ‘I could … I’d like to thank him in some way, but is that too little to express my gratitude for what he did? Would it offend him?’

  ‘You could embroider a whole set of handkerchiefs, one for every day of the week.’

  ‘That might be too much when he expressly said that he didn’t want any payment. May, do you think a gift of any kind might be misconstrued?’